


Where There's an Alpha, There's a Way

by CinnamonLily



Series: The Alpha and the Way [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Future Fic, Good Alpha Peter, Good Peter, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Lawyer Peter, Lawyer Peter Hale, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Single Parent Stiles Stilinski, Stiles has a kid, who is a wolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 03:24:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14535591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnamonLily/pseuds/CinnamonLily
Summary: Peter Hale is leaving a pro bono client's house in a crappy Chicago neighborhood, when an oddly familiar scent drifts to his nose. And then he hears the most heartbreaking sound ever.





	Where There's an Alpha, There's a Way

Peter smiled at Mrs. Goodman and ignored the tears she was dabbing away as she led him to the front door of her house.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Hale,” she said for the hundredth time.

“I’m glad to be of assistance. Tell your son I said hi when you go visit him at the hospital,” he said and shook her hand once more.

“I’ll do that. And again, I’m sorry about the parking situation,” she said apologetically, knowing as well as he did that her neighborhood wasn’t the best for his Lexus, especially when he’d had to leave it several houses down the street.

“It’s completely understandable, Mrs. Goodman, I assure you I can do with the walk.”

They said bye, and Peter walked the few steps to the sidewalk and began the trek to his car. He inhaled the air, as he would every time he stepped out into the open. It was coded in him by now. Being a werewolf wasn’t always safe, after all.

There it was again, the scent that had been bothering him when he first got out of his car. There was something familiar about it, nothing malicious, but something he couldn’t place. It annoyed him, not being able to identify the scent. It wasn’t concentrated enough, probably, which made it tickle his memory but never quite latched on.

He ignored a tiny, barking dog in one of the yards he was passing. It was behind a chain link fence and seemed to realize its mistake when it got the whiff of Peter. It whined and ran behind the house. Peter continued to ignore it, just because he didn’t want anyone to think he’d actually _done_ anything to the poor little beast.

He was two houses from his car, when his wolf pushed against his will so hard he could feel his gums itch and fingertips ache with the need to shift. He whipped his head around, looking for a threat, but there was none. He stopped to listen, and there it was; the most heartbreaking sound he’d ever heard in his life.

A wolf pup was crying somewhere nearby, tiny little howls were mixing into the sobbing, and when Peter scented the air, he could smell the salty tears and pure sadness rolling off the pup in waves.

He hadn’t smelled adult wolves, and the neighborhood was predominantly human, but that meant nothing on a greater scale.

His wolf tugged him forward, to the house he’d stopped in front of. A small, once off-white now more dirty gray single family house. It was poorly maintained, but Peter had the idea that it was out of poverty, not will, because there were flowers growing in colorful pots on the tiny porch.

He walked up the few stairs. As he inhaled, he noticed that the familiar smell from earlier was stronger there. The sobbing hadn’t stopped, the pup too distraught to notice him.

Peter glanced around at the empty neighborhood. It was daytime, and everyone who worked was out. He walked back to the mailbox and peered inside casually, like he had every right.

There was junk mail and a letter from a credit card company in there. He almost dropped it when he read the name.

“Stilinski, _of course_ ,” he put the mail back and marched to the door, then knocked carefully so not to scare the pup. “Hey pup, can you come open the door?” he asked loud enough for the child to hear.

The sobs turned into hiccups, then soft padding of feet.

“Why?”

“Because I think you might need help, and I think I know your daddy,” Peter explained, hazarding a guess of the pup’s heritage.

“My daddy says not to let anyone in,” a determined little voice told him, making Peter smile.

“And your daddy is very smart.” He thought quickly. “Do you and daddy have a password? To let you know someone is a friend?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do you have a hint for it? I know you’re not supposed to tell, but I might know the word if I get a hint.”

The child seemed to think, and after a few moments, they made a decision. “It’s my grandma’s name.”

Peter hoped it was Stiles’s mother, and said, “Then I think the password is Claudia.”

The pup moved behind the door, then unlocked and opened it clumsily.

“Hi,” Peter said when the utterly miserable looking child with Stiles’s eyes peered at him through the crack. “I’m Peter, I know your Daddy is called Stiles.”

“’Mnot supposed to tell my name,” they said, then looked at Peter and whispered, “It’s Poppy.”

Peter smiled at her. “Okay, Poppy. Why are you so sad?”

“B’cause my Daddy is so sad all the time and he put me in for a nap and fell asleep and then I woke up but he’s still sleeping, and that’s how my mama died, she didn’t wake up, and—” The lip wobble and eyes that teared up killed Peter.

“Hey, okay, let’s go take a look at your Daddy, okay?” He opened the door, scooped the pup into his arms and closed the door again.

She couldn’t have been more than four, but she’d obviously inherited his father’s genes, if the babbling was anything to go by.

Stiles had to be what? Closer to thirty now? How had a bright young man ended up in this neighborhood with a pup this age? Alone? Peter had lost touch with everyone but his blood family in the last… almost a decade.

Poppy pointed him to her room, and the sight inside broke Peter’s heart once more. Stiles was asleep on the floor next to Poppy’s bed. She’d put her blanket on top of him, Peter guessed, because it was light green and toddler size on top of Stiles’s grown up form.

“Okay,” Peter said quietly, knowing she’d hear him just fine. “If you listen carefully, Daddy is just sleeping, he’s okay.” He waited for her to use her senses. “His heart is beating just fine, right?”

She nodded vigorously and smiled at him. “Yeah!”

Peter hushed her. “Let’s go find you something to eat. Let Daddy sleep for a while longer.”

He took her to the kitchen and let her sit on top of the small table there. The whole house was tiny, just two bedrooms and a miniscule family room in addition to the kitchen that really had no space to cook at all.

“Now let’s see….” Peter peered into the mostly empty fridge and in the cupboards that were also quite barren. Jesus… what had been going on here? Why was this happening to Stiles of all people?

They were in a Chicago suburb, pretty much as far from Beacon Hills one could get while remaining in the States.

He made an omelet, adding the rest of some lunch meat into it for protein, and poured the rest of the apple juice into a sippy cup Poppy pointed out for him.

They sat at the table and Poppy ate, grinning between bites. “’S good!”

“Thank you,” Peter replied and smiled back at her. “Have you lived here long?”

She shook her head. “No, my mama died after New Year’s, and then we moveded here with Daddy.”

Peter hummed. It was May now.

“Was your mama a wolf like me?” he asked casually, flashing his red eyes at her.

Her eyes widened and flashed a beta yellow. “You’re an alpha!” Then she nodded. “Yeah, she was a beta like me.”

“Do you have an alpha?” he asked, hoping she knew what he meant.

“No, Daddy says we should find one, but now you found us, so maybe we don’t have to!” Poppy beamed at him, then continued to shovel the omelet into her mouth.

Stiles stirred in her room when she was just finishing the meal.

“Pop?” he called out, then hissed “ _Shit.”_ As he got up and off the floor. It couldn’t have been comfortable.

“We’re in here, Daddy!” Poppy called back, and Stiles appeared in the doorway, looking confused.

When his gaze landed on Peter, he looked—embarrassed as hell.

Peter couldn’t help the way his eyes flashed at Stiles. “It’s okay,” he said firmly. “It’s okay, Stiles.”

The shocked embarrassment lasted five more seconds, just enough for the worry to roll off of Poppy, and then Stiles’s body jerked into action and he took the few steps to the table, practically fell to his knees and leaned his upper body to Peter’s lap.

“Help me,” he whispered, wide shoulders shaking with tears. “Please.”

“Poppy, can you go play in your room for a bit?” Peter asked, and when she was about to say no, he gave her a patented alpha look, which made her nod solemnly and slide off her chair.

She had to go past her dad, and when she did, she placed a small hand on Stiles’s neck, rubbing her scent into his skin as if it wasn’t there already. “I told you he was sad a lot,” she told Peter in a tone that made Stiles cry harder.

Then she marched into her room, leaving them alone.

“I’m your alpha now,” Peter said. “And you know I take care of mine.”

Stiles nodded but didn’t move off Peter.

Peter started to comb his fingers through Stiles’s messy, long hair, and let him cry until there would be no more tears. He understood relief.

He had a few people in his pack, and a nice big house about an hour outside Chicago. His pack used it as a base, and he would have to move Stiles and Poppy there, if Stiles approved. Somehow Peter knew he would. This wasn’t a neighborhood to raise a wolf pup, after all.

Eventually, Stiles calmed down.

“Now, go clean up and then come sit at the table. There’s still ingredients for another omelet. I’ll cook, and you'll eat, and then you’ll tell me everything.”

He didn’t make it a request, he was the alpha, after all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This came out of nowhere, much like Fractured You. There should be an update to Fractured tomorrow. I'm not planning on continuing this, unless you guys give me a good enough reason and pep talks a-plenty. ;)


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